


Not the Monday I was Expecting

by Carramagen



Category: Sherlock (TV), Torchwood
Genre: Gen, Genderswap, Implied Sherlock/John - Freeform, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-20
Updated: 2012-10-20
Packaged: 2017-11-16 16:02:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/541297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carramagen/pseuds/Carramagen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by a kink-meme prompt.  John Watson, having been turned into a woman more than 10 months ago, is in for quite a surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not the Monday I was Expecting

**Author's Note:**

> Beta read, but I was unable to locate a brit-picker. Comments welcome!

John paces around the flat, a restless sort of feeling and discomfort driving her like some sort of perpetual motion machine. A small huff of discomfort disturbs the air as she pauses with one hand against the wall and nearly folds in half. The bin earns a sharp glare, the left-over contents from last night's meal having been disposed of after tasting a bit 'off'. She irrationally blames proximity to decaying flesh inside what should be labeled as a bio-hazard refrigerator. A small, vicious voice inside her gleefully points out that it's probably better the food was tossed, she'd been gaining a few inches after far too many take-out meals. Even an extra stone looks heavy when standing next to one Sherlock Holmes.

Two more circuits around the small space of the living room until she tips herself over onto the long couch. Another huff followed by a groan as John squirms and tosses trying to find a position that's at least less uncomfortable than before. "Unbelievable..." She mutters to herself, wishing the pain would drop low enough so she could just go to the toilet and be done with it.

Two pairs of footsteps come up the steps before Sherlock enters the flat with Lestrade on his heels.

"Sherlock, you can't just leave an accident scene."

"It seems I've already done so. Besides, my presence at the location is not required for a statement." Sherlock dismisses Lestrade's presence as he scans the flat, pausing on John.

"Have you entered active labor yet?" Sherlock inquires curiously, moving close to hover next to her elbow.

John blinks up at the tall silhouette. "What?" Her brain isn't quite keeping up at the moment.

"How long was your first phase? Did you experience - "

"Labor?" John ratchets up into a sitting position, nearly taking out Sherlock when she swings her feet around to the floor.

"You're pregnant?" Lestrade's shocked voice overlays hers.

"No."

"Yes." Sherlock looks back over his shoulder at Lestrade.

"Sherlock, I am not pregnant."

"May I examine your cervix?"

"Sherlock!"

Sherlock huffs and glances up at the ceiling. "Your caloric intake has gradually increased over eight months. You experienced brief bouts of nausea at the exposure to the experiments in the icebox, likely due to an increased sense of smell. You have not menstruated since we engaged in intercourse nine months ago. You have also gained an additional stone in the last two months. In the last two days you have suffered increased lower back pain and restlessness, likely the first stage of labor."

Lestrade stares back and forth between the two until John catches him looking at her. "You had sex?"

"How often would I have the opportunity to study someone who has experienced both male and female orgasm?" Sherlock remarks languidly before John can get a word out.

A sinking feeling hits the bottom of her belly as another, stronger cramp twists inside of her. She's not willing to give up this argument yet. She doesn't even bother with the fact that he's apparently tracking her period. Of course she shouldn't even be having a period, but that's another matter entirely... "I took emergency contraceptives. I had two pregnancy tests."

"Yet here you are." Sherlock acknowledges.

"Not pregnant." John mutters, pulling herself off the low couch with a wince.

"For a doctor you are being particularly idiotic today." Sherlock mutters. "You do realize that pregnancy could explain why you haven't reverted according to the documented timeline? Perhaps I should put a call in to Captain Harkness -"

"If you pick up a phone I will shoot you." John immediately threatens.

"If you insist on being difficult I could have Lestrade purchase another pregnancy test for you." Sherlock sniffs in response.

"Oi!" Lestrade's voice pitches upwards as he protests, looking back and forth between John and Sherlock.

Any further discussion regarding the merits of Sherlock's hypothesis of pregnancy are halted as John lets out a breathy 'oh' of surprise, a wet spot spreading over the loose trousers.

"Still think you're not pregnant?" Sherlock asks archly even while moving forward to catch her by the elbow.

"I'm not going to collapse, you know." John huffs as Sherlock steers her back towards the chair. Before Sherlock can settle her onto the deep cushions she pulls back, trying to settle him onto the chair instead.

Sherlock looks at her with a questioning gaze until she sinks down into a squat in front of him, leaning forward into his lap to try and relieve the pressure on her lower back. "Of course. Sitting isn't exactly comfortable." He mutters to himself, one broad palm reaching down to rub her lower back.

"Fuck." John mutters, head dropping slightly.

"Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock calls loud enough that John winces at the volume.

"Sherlock." Mrs. Hudson admonishes as she comes up the stairs, pausing at the door.

"Ah, Mrs. Hudson. We require your services as a midwife. John's entered active labor."

"John?" Mrs. Hudson questions, blinking at the tableau in front of her.

"Call an ambulance, Mrs. Hudson." John requests quickly, the sentence clipped by a breathy grunt.

"I'll make the call and get some clean towels." Mrs. Hudson calls over her shoulder as she heads down the stairs.

"Greg, you should probably wash your hands." John manages, trembling slightly against Sherlock.

"Oi, you're not roping me into this are you?" Lestrade questions with a weak grin even as he moves towards the sink.

"Going to need someone to catch just in case." John calls out as Lestrade makes his way back to them using a paper towel to dry his hands.

"I'll do it." Sherlock seethes as Lestrade enters her personal space.

"Sherlock. While I will agree that you can be absolutely brilliant when it comes to observation," Lestrade pauses to make sure the younger man is actually paying attention to him, continuing once Sherlock makes eye-contact. "But I've actually helped deliver a child or two."

"I'm sure John has delivered more than that."

"Oh my god." John growls. "Will you two shut it?" She barely manages to rush the words out before another contraction ripples across her abdominal muscles, catching her in mid-breath.

"I could provide digital stimulation if you'd like to orgasm in order to ease -"

"Sherlock!" Lestrade interrupts, scandalized.

John could only laugh and let her head fall against Sherlock's chest, at this point not caring she's likely sweating on a shirt that costs more than she makes in a day. Serves him right. "No, I think I'll survive without it."

"Here you are dears..." Mrs. Hudson re-enters the flat with clean towels, handing them off to Lestrade. "How far along is she?"

"Hard to tell with the first." John interrupts before Lestrade can respond, earning a raised eyebrow from the older man. "Doctor, remember?" She mutters. "Contractions are about..." pause. "three minutes apart."

"Two minutes thirty seconds." Sherlock corrects.

"Of course you would be counting." John can't smother the giggle that escapes. "Oh." She grimaces.

"Ah. Two minutes."

"I don't need a countdown." John growls breathlessly.

"Seems awfully quick." Lestrade observes, worry staining his voice.

"Precipitous labor." Sherlock remarks. "Studies indicate only two percent of women-"

"Sherlock."

"Ambulance should be here shortly. I think we should get these trousers off, don't you?" Mrs. Hudson shuffles towards John, hands hovering around her until she nods granting permission. "Sherlock, help me get her standing."

John's divested of her trousers and pants with quick efficiency, tucking her face against Sherlock's chest to hide the burn of embarrassment on her cheeks. Within a few seconds she's pulling Sherlock back down with her as she settles into a squat, riding through a long contraction.

"John?" Sherlock's voice is laced with worry as John pulls him down with her. His question is met with a groan.

"Don't be daft dear, she's a bit busy at the moment." Mrs. Hudson smacks Sherlock lightly on the arm. "Greg?"

"Ready." Greg nods, towels laid out beneath John's thighs and another laid out in easy reach.

"John dear, get ready to push with the next contraction if you're ready." Mrs. Hudson instructs from over Sherlock's shoulder.

"Blimey." John manages breathily, trying to ignore the tendrils of panic creeping up her limbs.

"You're doing great, John." Mrs. Hudson offers her encouragement.

"I can't – this – I'm not...This can't be real-" John chokes, breaths coming in short and fast.

"John." Sherlock's fingers tighten around her trembling upper arms, prompting her too look up. "Breathe with me."

John squeezes her eyes shut for a few brief moments, nodding. She lets out a low groan as she feels the first major stretch, panting as the contraction relents.

"I've got the head!" Greg calls without looking up.

"Just a few more contractions dear. Oh, I hear the ambulance. I'll bring them up. You just focus on having that baby." Mrs. Hudson pats John on the shoulder before disappearing down the hallway.

"Oh god, I can't do this I don't even-" John starts to babble, trying to push herself up and away from Sherlock.

"John! You can do this. You're almost there. Just push. Push!" Sherlock holds her firmly in place, supporting her weight.

Riding another long wave of a contraction, John bears down and pushes with a strangled sob. Her full abdomen suddenly flattening as the baby drops from between her thighs into Greg's waiting hands. "It's a girl!" He manages with a laugh as she lets out a long wail, the paramedics clattering into the room around the trio.

"A girl." John breaths relaxing against Sherlock, stunned. The paramedics appear at her side, one pulling the infant from Greg's arms and the other checking John's vitals. What had been a sitting room with four people has been crowded with noise and more people, including a crying infant.

John could only stare at the cord dangling from inside her still connected to the crying infant before being clamped and clipped. A cold heat rushes her face, nausea rising to the surface. Pushing the medic offering the baby to her away, she leans to one side and vomits.

"John. John." She can hear Sherlock repeating her name, a warm hand steady along her back as John realizes she's sobbing. Her perception of the world contracts and she's only briefly aware of being urged to pass the placenta before finding herself in the back of an ambulance. Her awareness shifts again as she's in the A & E, Sherlock firmly grasping her hand before her body decides she's done enough for the day and the world spins into darkness.

John wakes with a start in a hospital bed, her body swift to remind her of the trauma sustained a few hours previously.

"John." Sherlock surges forward from his position in a seat next to the bed.

"How long?" John asks, hands smoothing outwards on the thin sheets.

"Twelve hours. There was...a complication from the precipitous labor." Sherlock plucks the chart from the foot of the bed, intending to offer it to her.

John closes her eyes, turning her head until her cheek is pressed against a pillow.

"John. You can't ignore this."

"I most certainly can!" John retorts. "I'm ignoring it right now."

"I would have never expected you to indulge in self-denial." The remark is sharp and cutting, and John simply refuses to respond.

"Oh excellent, you're awake." A nurse enters the private room, taking a few notes as John and Sherlock stare at each other in silence.

"Would you like me to bring in your baby to try and feed her? I can have the lactation consultant come in and help you for your first time." The nurse offers helpfully.

"No!" John whips her head towards the nurse as Sherlock responds with a yes.

"Please. Not now. Not yet." John curls in the bed turning her back towards the nurse. Finally Sherlock gives the nurse a short negative head-shake, dismissing her for the moment.

"John." He asks softly once the nurse is gone.

"Please, Sherlock. I can't – just. Not yet."

Sherlock pauses. "Do you want to put her up for adoption?" He asks quietly.

John startles at the offer, gaze flying up towards the taller man. "I..." The thought dies in her throat. "I don't know. I just...I need some time to think. Three days ago I thought I was going to eventually go back to being me, not...have a baby."

"I suppose it is a bit of a shock." Sherlock allows.

"You know, she's your daughter too." John sighs after a long beat of silence.

"Yes." Sherlock nods. "However if I had to choose between your continued companionship and a child I am ill-prepared to raise..."

John's lips twitch up briefly into a grin. "Are you admitting to sentiment?"

Sherlock scoffs in response, his own lips curling into a matching grin. "Of course not."

A comfortable silence fills the space between them, John thinking while Sherlock leans his head back and closes his eyes, hands folded casually across his lap.

"Sherlock?"

"Mmmm?"

"If I wanted to give her up...could Mycroft make sure she goes to a good home?" She asks, voice soft.

"Certainly."

"Okay."

Six hours later and the nurses had forced Sherlock from the room, leaving John to her own thoughts in empty silence until a nurse comes by on her usual rounds.

"How are you dear?" The nurse asks politely, checking the chart.

"Well, I suppose." John licks her lips before an impulse bursts through. "Do you..do you think I could see my baby?"

"Of course." The nurse brightens, finishing up her tasks before touching John's arm. "I'll have someone bring her to you."

John nods, before forcing herself to settle back into the stiff mattress as the nurse leaves. She fidgets as it takes nearly half an hour until someone comes back, a small wrapped bundle in her arms.

"Have you decided what to name her yet?" The nurse asks, gently placing the newborn in John's waiting arms.

John can only blink. "I...No. I haven't decided yet." She stares down at the sleepy infant with the written identification "baby girl Watson" on the foot anklet.

"I'll be back in thirty minutes to take her back to the nursery. If you have any problems, just ring us."

John doesn't acknowledge the nurse as the woman leaves, instead focusing on the small person in her arms.

They simply stare at each other for a few minutes. Well, John stares.

"Well hello. You're certainly wrinkly." John manages awkwardly. "I hope you aren't offended, I wasn't exactly expecting you. I have to admit, I'm not quite sure what to name you. Olivia? Penelope? Teagan? I don't suppose you have a preference..." John rambles softly until the infant begins to fuss and hiccup.

John automatically lifts to tuck the infant against her chest, rubbing the small back. "Shhh." She whispers softly, until the baby starts rooting near her breast.

"Oh. I suppose you're hungry." John blinks, momentarily stunned into indecision until small cry of frustration interrupts her train of thought. "Yeah. Okay." She nods.

With slow deliberate movements, she pulls the gown open enough to free her breast. Almost immediately her nipple and surrounding aureole disappear into the infant's mouth. It only takes a few moments of stimulation until John feels a sudden release of tension.

"Well isn't that the strangest feeling.." John mutters at the infant suckling from her breast, a warm feeling building behind her chest. Hesitantly with her free hand she brushes her fingers over the soft downy hair. "If Sherlock were here he'd probably say I'm only experiencing the release of oxytocin." She murmurs to the infant, wondering at her small fingers.

"He'd be right." A male voice calls from the door.

"Jack." John blinks in surprise from the hospital bed, startling at the additional presence while feelingly particularly exposed. The infant didn't twitch at the sudden disturbance of her mother and continued to suckle intently.

Ruthlessly shoving down an impulse to cover her modesty, John stills herself and watches Jack. If she hadn't, she might have missed a flicker of emotion across his face. "How's my girl?" He asks softly, almost hesitant to move to her side.

"She's fine." John's hand covers the back of the infant's head, more protective than supportive as the newborn nurses.

"That's not exactly who I'm talking about." Jack lowers himself into the empty chair by her bed.

"Why are you here, Jack?"

"I came to see how you were doing."

"Jack."

"What?"

John sighs, staring down at the infant. "Will I change back?"

Jack glances at his palms briefly. "Now? It's...not likely."

"Too human?" John mutters ruthlessly.

"That never mattered to me." Jack remarks sharply, his gaze shifting to John.

"No. Only your Doctor mattered to you." John allows, the venom draining from her posture.

"John. You were safer without me."

"It doesn't matter." John sighs, adjusting the front of her gown after her baby decides to be done with feeding. " So what are your plans now?"

"I was hoping...I could look in on my granddaughter and her mother from time to time." Jack requests, falling back into a familiar expression of a half-smirk.

"I might give her up." John studies her infant's face, a finger tracing the slope of the nose, and gentle curve of the ears.

"You might. But I don't think you will." Jack tips his head into a small shake.

"Jack." John remarks with aggravation.

"John. You always wanted a family." Jack leans points out, watching the pair of them.

John blinks. "As a man, Jack. Find a nice girl, get married...Giving birth to a baby – Sherlock's baby – wasn't something I was exactly prepared for. God. Sherlock's baby. Never thought I'd ever say those words." She huffs with amusement.

"It is a bit of a shock, isn't it?" Jack ribs good naturally. He coughs slightly on John's glare. "Sorry. I do have some experience with that."

John snorts. "Is this where you're going to tell me you regret the decision to give me up and go off gallivanting around time and space?"

A sad expression pulls on Jack's features. "No. I wasn't ready to raise a kid. I'm still not ready to raise a kid." He snorts, shaking his head. "I know you don't believe me, but giving you up was the best thing for you."

"Fine." John sighs, unwilling to continue the argument.

"John." Jack starts.

"Jack, it's fine." She barks sharply at him. "It's all fine." John repeats more kindly this time.

"I might never be good father material, John...but I was hoping maybe I could be a good grandfather."

"I thought you'd have plenty of grandchildren by now." John remarks with a tilt of her head.

"Well..." Jack offers a smug grin before it breaks into a grimace. "Most of them...have no idea who I am."

"Ah. I suppose that would make things awkward."

"You have no idea." Jack breathes with amusement, still studying the infant in John's arms.

John frowns briefly at Jack's gaze, her own being pulled to the infant. "Do you..would you like to hold her?"

Jack's gaze snaps up towards John's face, his hands already beginning to reach outwards as he steps towards the bed. "Can I?"

John nods her permission as she gently transfers the wrapped bundle into Jack's waiting arms. "Oh, look at you." He presses a finger into her palm, grinning as the baby's fingers wrap around into a fist. "Strong grip just like your mom when she was born."

"I'm sorry about Ianto." John says softly, hands now limp in her lap.

"Yeah." Jack agrees. "I think you two would have gotten along brilliantly. I just wish you could have met."

"Captain Harkness." Mycroft's voice drifts from the doorway, sending John reeling back into the support of her bed with a groan.

"Visiting hours are supposed to be more than just a suggestion." She mutters, glaring at the new arrival.

"Holmes." Jack says brightly, bouncing the baby in his hands. "I don't suppose you've reconsidered my offer?"

"Jack!" John admonishes, pink rising to her cheeks, as Mycroft coughs.

"I believe I'll have to pass on your offer." Mycroft manages with a bored look on his face, one eyebrow quirking upwards in admonishment.

"Worth a try." Jack shrugs, moving to hand the baby back to John. "I need to go." He says quietly staring at the infant, before glancing up at John. "Think about it?"

John pauses with her lips parted before nodding. "I'll think about it."

A grin flashes across Jack's features as he presses a light kiss to John's forehead. "You did good, kiddo." One last look at both of them and Jack slips past the bed, pausing to stare briefly at Mycroft. The other man nods oncein apparent agreement. Then with his great coat flaring out around him Jack is gone.

John stares at the doorway before her gaze flickers upwards. "Mycroft."

"I assumed this would be something you preferred to handle in private. I've spoken briefly with Sherlock, and have selected three potential families for your child should you choose to give her up for adoption."

John accepts the offered files with one hand, glancing briefly over the names. She blinks in surprise. "Mycroft. Your name is on one of these files." She stares up at him.

Mycroft nods in response. "Yes. I'm not one to normally indulge in sentiment..." he ignores John as she rolls her eyes at him "but she is family. If you would permit, I would be honored to raise my niece."

John finds herself just staring up at Mycroft. Before she can utter a response he lifts his palm to stall her. "Should you choose to put her up for adoption. Please do not take my preparation as a suggestion." He steps towards the door, pausing briefly. "She is beautiful, John."

"Ta." John automatically replies, more out of good manners than anything else. One last brief smile and Mycroft is gone.

"Well. You've certainly gone and been born into a family of nutters." John stares down at the baby with amusement. "Looks like you're not to be rid of us just yet."

The infant hiccups and blinks, eyes opening wide enough that John catches a glimpse of blue-green. She stares at her daughter for a few moments. "What do you think about Eleanor?"


End file.
